Interlude
by cagewench
Summary: a short Willow/Spike piece which may be continued


Disclaimer: I bow down before the great Joss who let's me play with his creations : I own nothing but the storyline. I borrowed the characters and created the situation.

Distribution: ask me… it's all over the place ;

Dedication: for Erin who loves Willow as much as I do and for Ryan who loves Spike as much as I do :

More of my work: [http://jane.crimescene.org/~wench/fanfiction.html][1]

Feedback: If you're reading this on [www.fanfiction.net][2] there's a review box at the bottom… or you can email me [catalysts@home.com][3]

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Interlude

By C. D. Hackett

The breeze swept past suddenly, stirring up old leaves and some unrecycled newsprint that fluttered past slim legs like a bat before disappearing into the night.

Willow shivered and adjusted her backpack. She really hadn't meant to be out so late, but time passed so quickly when she and Tara got together to work on spells.

"Ok, Rosenburg, let's get it together and get home safely," she muttered to herself.

She turned and walked confidently towards Stevenson Hall, not seeing the shadow that paced her from its hiding place in the trees.

Her footsteps echoed on the sidewalk and she almost cussed at herself for not wearing her comfy, **quiet** sneakers.

Cool blue eyes narrowed as they observed her. Taking in her grace and confidence that so rarely had a chance to shine. He felt a heat enveloping him as if she had poured Holy water on his jeans.

"Sweet Jesus," he spat out his cigarette and crushed it purposefully under his boot, "Red is quite the looker when she doesn't expect to be seen by the gang."

He appraised her honestly. The dress suited her, deep green with paler green designs, falling a few inches above the knee. Showing off an impressive and expansive part of her well-molded legs.

Her hair was moving in the wind, he thought it was rather sexy and daring. "Her long locks had always made her seem so girlish, but," he thought as his eyes locked on her rounded breasts, "she's all woman. And where the hell has she been hiding those? Those damn fluffy sweaters!"

Spike also approved of the knee-length leather boots she wore. Definitely _foreplay_ boots. If she'd been wearing over-the-knee _fuck-me-boots_, he would've had her on the ground by now.

It was odd, he could feel his demon in perfect harmony with his own desires for the first time in 90 some odd years.

Desire had a name.

Willow.

The redhead smiled broadly, "I made it home, all on my own. Completely safe."

"Hey, Willow."

She squeaked as one of Riley's Initiative buddies startled her.

"Oh," she was quiet for a moment, "Hey Graham, how are you?"

Graham was taken aback. Since when was Willow such a hottie? He thought back to what his cousin, Percy, had said about her. He'd stressed **nerd **and added with a nervous chuckle that she had "a bad-ass temper." He shook his head and showed off his pearly whites.

"I was just going to grab a bite, care to join me?"

Spike growled, "Who the fuck does that army bastard think he is? Honing in on **my** girl?" His rage intensified.

"Fuck it, I don't care what happens."

One second she was talking with Graham, the next he was unconscious and Spike was clutching his head in pain. Her eyes were clouded with confusion, but she didn't back away.

Spike grabbed her and kissed her soundly. Deeply. He lost himself in the sweet smell of her hair and the softness of her skin.

Willow didn't think. She acted. Her arms locked around the back of his neck and she held on, enjoying the sensations he was creating in her. Finally, after an eternity, she pulled away. Her lips puffed as if bee-stung, her lipstick staining his mouth, leaving hers newly naked.

"Oh."

The blond vampire inhaled deeply, even though he had no need to, as he thought about what just occurred, "Fucking amazing!" 

"Get inside, Pet," he held the door open as far as he could with Graham's body in the way, "It's not safe out here."

The End

   [1]: http://jane.crimescene.org/~wench/fanfiction.html
   [2]: http://www.fanfiction.net/
   [3]: mailto:catalysts@home.com



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